


We Will Never Ever Get Out Of Here Together

by Phrenotobe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Gen, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies that melt things, emetophobia warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrenotobe/pseuds/Phrenotobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She makes a bat swing motion, and points to a half-healed scrape under her forearm.<br/>“Weird, right?” she says, “I mean I was level-headed about it. Zombies just happen, what do I care.”<br/>“I suppose so, if your species finds eerie reanimation a normalized process.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Never Ever Get Out Of Here Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arachnids](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnids/gifts).



It’s midday in Houston, a sweltering heat and the stink of the roaming undead a constant assault on the nose. Vriska’s metal baseball bat lays half-over Rose’s piece of pipe, tucked together in the corner, just in reach of the futon.

“So I was in a crowd, pretending to go along with it, you know? Next thing I know, WHAM, and then some fucker’s shoved me over to get away ‘cause somebody started freaking out and drooling, grabbing people and gumming them all over with his dumb human teeth.”  
She makes a bat swing motion, and points to a half-healed scrape under her forearm.  
“Weird, right?” she says, “I mean I was level-headed about it. Zombies just happen, what do I care.”  
“I suppose so, if your species finds eerie reanimation a normalized process.”  
Rose throws another packet of cheetos at Vriska’s midriff with a dull paff as it hits. The apartment they are in was the only one with an unlocked door, easily searchable, thankfully re-lockable, and inexplicably filled with puppet detritus. A frat house delight filled with orange soda and old, scuffed furniture, a pair of empty sword racks and a TV still showing the menu screen of a DVD of _Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann._  
“So like, you said your cousin lived in this city?”  
“A friend,” Rose says, “I don’t know if he’s still alive. Wifi cut out a few days ago.”  
Vriska blows a raspberry.  
“Hope he died quickly.”

Rose stands up to put the packaging in the bin, mostly out of a need to avoid messing up the apartment more than she needs to. The trash can is already overflowing, so she just places it on top, like the crowning adornment of the world’s most terrifying christmas tree.  
“Can you grab me a drink while you’re there?” Vriska yells, and Rose reflexively cringes in case they’ve been heard by something on another floor. She leans to look out of the window at the dark throngs of shuffling monsters roaming the streets, clustered around corners in the shade during the hottest part of the day. A few stragglers tread aimless circles, presumably missing the memo. 

“We have mountain dew, orange soda, half of a gallon of dubious apple juice, three cans of pabst blue ribbon, and a diet coke that seems to be lost. Thoughts?”  
“Beer me, nerd,” Vriska yells back.  
“Indeed,” Rose says, rolling her eyes ceilingwards. She takes the diet coke, working the top open with a towel over the sink, and frowns glumly into the distance.  
“I said beer!” Vriska calls again.  
“I _know_ , you peevish shrew,” Rose snaps back, “I’m getting my own drink too.”  
“Sheesh,” Vriska says, her voice moving quieter as she wanders around the apartment. There’s a dull thud, a crash, and an irate trollish hiss.  
“Don’t kick things,” Rose advises after the fact.

They settle into the apartment easily, locking it up tight with the key instead of nails and a plank of wood for one blessed time and putting on the latch out of a dull sense of civilized habit. There are already groans coming from the foyer, two teenies along with some ordinary reanimated persons, and a ripper, if that deep bullish sound can be trusted. It’ll take them a while to navigate the stairs up to the top floor. 

“Do you have any plans in particular?” Rose asks, once they’re firmly ensconced on the couch.  
Vriska’s picking at leftovers and throwing caution to the wind, saying she can handle it. Rose is pulling open the plastic top of a microwave meal, wrinkling her nose at the smell of pre-made and congealed gravy in which chicken steaks rest dubiously within, partitioned neatly away from peas and mashed potato.  
“Looks great,” Vriska comments sarcastically, leaning over her shoulder, “Nah, just hide out here, look for more food, maybe kill a few dozen zombies for fun? Do you like fun, Lalonde. Have you even heard of a fun, because I hear lots of people really like that shit.”  
Rose digs the skin off her gravy with the tip of a fork and pulls a face.  
“I write,” she says, cutting with the side of her fork and manhandling the piece around until the prongs catch it, “And get my kicks from non-threatening habits in general. I can probably do a mean heel tap step, but I must admit I’m more of a hoofer.”  
“Ugh,” Vriska says around a mouthful of deep-fried something. 

Vriska shakes Rose awake in the grey hours, a rhythmic thud at the door. The rattle of the latch is in time with a dull scratch and groan. Something’s out there. Possibly more. Definitely a Ripper. There was no safer place than a small, airless roof apartment, and no safer place now than the roof, with a drop so long you’ll regret your whole life twice before the end.  
“This won’t be a happy ending, will it?” she murmurs as they ascend the stairs.  
“Who the fuck said endings had to be happy? Endings only matter if they’re awesome.”  
“I will admit I’m doubtful of that, too.”

The door judders one more time before it crashes open, breaking in two as they high-tail it up the stairs to the roof. Once up there, it’s clear, thankfully, though a little smaller than expected. Vriska breathes a double lungful of air, slamming the door behind her. There’s no lock on it. Underneath their feet, somebody’s burned a giant HELP into the chalk-colored concrete and bits of firework are scattered underfoot.  
“We could go out in a blaze of glory, but i don’t know what it’d serve.” Rose adds, as she follows Vriska to the edge but stops short of sitting on it, which Vriska does. She kicks her feet against the sides, watching the flow of monsters beneath.  
“Yeah I guess.” she says, pushing up her glasses, “We’ve got like five minutes before that guy comes barreling through to knock us off.”  
“Long enough to regret things.”  
Vriska laughs, a little sudden, a little shrill.  
“I don’t regret anything!” she says, hauling herself up, “‘Except maybe forgetting our damn weapons down there!”  
She gives Rose a shove, and goes to stand in front of the door.  
“I’m not scared of you, rot-brain! Come and get it! Bring the whole thing! Bring your lusus! Bring all your stupid meat friends! I’ll take you out with nothing but a stick and a-”  
She pauses.  
“Gimme your needles, Lalonde.”  
“You may have half of a set,” Rose says, digging them out from her waistband. Solid steel, heavier than they need to be, and occasionally a very blunt and forceful kind of lockbreaker, “If you say please.”  
“Yeah, alright.” she says, reaching out a hand. “Oh my god. Did you mean it? We are going to die and you mean it. Give me those wool prodders. Please. _Pleaaaaaaaase_. Ugh.”  
“Yes,” Rose says, giving one up reluctantly.  
“Good. Now get on that roof thing.”  
Rose gives it an angry squint.  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“Time is ticking! It comes through, I distract it, you get it in the neck and keep stabbing until it dies. _Get on the roof._ ”

A begrudging boost up later, Rose kneels on the roof above the door, ready and waiting.  
“Just so you know, heights are not really my forte.”  
Vriska picks at her fingernails with the point of the needle.  
“Yeah, just get ready. I can hear them.”  
The door nudges open with a scrape, but closes again as the zombie on the other side bumps against it and turns away, and Rose lets out a long breath.  
Vriska takes a step forward, sidling sideways with a movement that Rose only just catches - she knows dance, after all - and braces herself. 

The ripper comes smashing through, all beefy arms and tiny head, splashed already with gross chunks of things it already rammed into, and bellows when it finds Vriska waiting. She rolls out of the way a moment after it catches, needle in hand, a quick jab to the ankle and making it wobble as it follows her motion, unable to precisely turn on a dime. It loops around with spare momentum, only slightly slowed, and Vriska gulps a sly giggle as she ducks left to lead a big loop around the edge of the roof, skidding as she reaches the first corner and nearly running on air. Rose’s knuckles clench tight around the other needle, waiting for the right chance, and wonders what to do as she hears the wheeze and flop of a teenie pulling up the attic stairs on two limbs.  
“Vriska....” she calls.  
“Busy!” the troll replies, throwing herself face forward toward the ground to change direction and coming up behind, grazing the zombie at the knee.  
“Hey ugly! Yes, you!” she sings out, running it right off the roof with the ripper’s own momentum, using a foot to the tush. It roars in bewilderment as it falls, the thud a long way off.  
“Goodbye!”  
“Vriska!” Rose hisses, “Teenies!”  
The teenie launches itself at the door headfirst, spitting a good glot of acid as it goes. There’s a couple of normal ones bringing up the rear, already blistered from the contact.  
“Shit no, fuck this entire everything!” she says, as the teenie glubs another bit of indescribable goop in her direction. “Get your stupid human butt down here, this is a code yellow, the worst!”  
Rose isn’t in the mood to argue, waiting a moment longer before catching the first normal through the door in the back of their bumbling head with a foot, surfing it down to the concrete. It makes quite a decent amount of foam upon contact with the caustic extrusions, but she gives it a quick jab between vertebrae to make sure before straightening up  
“I can handle this,” she says, “Go sit, you’re tagged out.”  
The teenie starts to paw itself around in a circle to look at the source of the new sound, wheezing painfully. It has forearms reddened by dragging itself through its own acid, truncated far too early at the middle by the same stuff it spits, making a toxic mess no matter which way it points.  
“Don’t let it explode!” Vriska calls, hopping up onto the roof to stay out of the way.  
“ _Does_ it explode?”  
“Just mind your sneaks, Lalonde!” she retorts.  
The teenie angles their head, winding up to spit. Rose sidesteps with a tap click of a shiny shoe, and the teenie gets confused a moment, dragging around a laborious two inches before making a grim sounding belch.  
“Wow!” Vriska calls, “Hey, I think you’re going to have a party!”  
Rose tilts her head.  
“Another?”  
Vriska kicks her feet against the ruined door, causing a ruckus. “You got it!”  
A splat and a fizz and Rose turns toward the sound, the lower edge of the door melting away, taking a short hop to get out of the way of the teenie on deck’s own assault. It coughs, dripping a not inconsiderable amount of yellowish bile down itself, and pulls forward a little closer.  
The one behind the door finally appears, gurgling with apparent mirth, revving up a packet of acid, with several normals coming up behind it and stumbling up to the roof. 

Rose pulls a piece of long thread from her waistband, looping one end over her needle and using it to ensnare the nearest zombie around the throat, spinning it in a part grapple toward the edge of the roof and tipping it off with a nudge to freedom. The next normal is used as a shield against the teenie’s combined attack, and then shoved toward the third out of the door to knock them off balance. They falter, but don’t fall, sluggishly moving forward in that direction until they realize their target is behind them and change course.

The teenie in the doorway bides time, hiccuping up some more acid and slithering backwards down the stair as it loses grip. Rose dodges a clumsy swing from the remaining zombie and sends it back toward the broken door, dipping to loop thread around their legs and trip them onto the teenie, only just getting back up again. It doesn’t explode, but does make a satisfying squelch. A splot of acid falls with a hiss by Rose’s heel, and she lets out a little half-yelp.  
“Having trouble down there?” Vriska jeers, and Rose grimaces, mostly out of options. In the sky, far away, a news helicopter circles another rooftop, before gliding away behind a skyscraper.  
“Nothing I can’t solve,” Rose retorts, advancing on the teenie while she wraps thread around her needle, looping it tight into a knot before throwing it like a dart, point-first. Two more normals clamber mechanically over the blockage at the stairs.  
The knitting needle hits on-target, breaking through the frangible acid-rotten skull and lodging in it.  
“I hear more!” Vriska calls, “Like way more, so many more!”  
Rose angrily tugs on the end of her thread to retrieve the needle, the corpse’s vertebrae putting up a fight and only creaking as the body of it is dragged a few inches toward her. The teenie is stilled, but perhaps not yet again dead.  
“Vriska Serket,” Rose replies, “If you don’t stop the commentary I will choke you on your own shoe.”  
She gives it another angry pull, and the head snaps off just under the bile sac. she spins it in an arc, glots of acid thrown out and corroding the new arrivals, fizzing in their craniums and slowing them to a stop.  
“And what do you mean ‘many’?”  
“Billions.”

The reassuring thwop of an incoming helicopter arrives just as the roof starts to get hard to navigate, the masses of zombies turning into a steady flow of monsters that, although easy to shove off the edge, also have the ability to return in kind if the two don’t watch where they put their feet.  
“Not to intrude, but-” A loud hailer calls, “You appear to be having some problems!”  
“We’ve got a horde, Kanaya! Is there an extra large gun stashed somewhere about your skirts?”  
Kanaya laughs, hanging out of the chopper to give Rose a hand up.  
“Nothing but myself, although narratively, I suppose the three of us killing everything together would be the most romantic option.”  
Jade at the controls rolls her eyes good-naturedly, focused on keeping the helicopter level.  
“Miss Maryam, you are one of the least romantic fighters of roaming undead I have ever met.”  
“Thank you,” she murmurs, “I do my best.”  
Vriska grumps an angry “Bluh!” and hops off the roof, shoving zombies out of the way. She tugs herself aboard the helicopter and a zombie launches itself in a last ditch attempt to follow, clinging to the landing skids and reaching into the open cabin.  
“Get that thing off quick if you can,” Jade calls, “We’ll run out of gas if we have to carry it along with the two of you!”  
Kanaya hops down from the helicopter’s open side and lands neatly, swinging her chainsaw up to judder through several zombies with an experienced swing and clearing a wide semi-circle around the side the helicopter is on. She makes short work of those already ambling toward the chopper, and shoves a few more off with the butt of her weapon.  
Vriska kicks the zombie off the skids with vehement cussing and enthusiastically angry shoving with a foot, getting even more irate when it starts to gnaw at her sneaker ineffectively. It looses grip eventually, and falls, the Helicopter bucking up a bit at the sudden loss of weight.  
“Get in, we’re leaving!” Jade says, circling around to steady up her controls again, and halting as well as she’s able about three feet away from the edge.  
Kanaya pockets her weapon, elbowing a zombie beginning to handsy, and takes the jump, catching the lip of the cabin and getting hauled aboard.  
“Thanks,” she says, “I’m sure there’s more of us to find.”  
“Fuel first!” Jade chirps brightly, and flicks a switch, “You all took your sweet time.”


End file.
